


Dance

by peridottie



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, glad i can finally post it, i'm rly proud of this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2019-01-06 00:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12200232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peridottie/pseuds/peridottie
Summary: The Losers go to a local sock hop, and Stan isn't interested in dancing until Bill comes along and shows him.





	Dance

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! here's some good old fashioned stenbrough i wrote months ago, but it's still one of my most well written pieces i think!! hope you enjoy.

Dances had quite never been Stan Uris’s idea of fun. They were often boring, haphazardly decorated to suit the student volunteers’ limited time. It was crowded, full of couples kissing and awkwardly holding each other as they danced… And yet, Stan had been dragged to nearly every one. The Losers all seemed to get a kick out of them (except for maybe Mike and Ben. Ben never had anything nice to wear, and Mike was sure to have slurs hurled at him or perhaps told he wasn't allowed inside since it was “too crowded”). Ben and Mike usually had fair excuses, while Stan had none. They all just took him as a Debbie Downer and forced him along anyway. 

Stan always aimed to please his friends, and would eventually give in to their begging after the umpteenth time. It wasn't the worst thing that he could spend his Friday doing, neither was it the best, but his dearest pals concluded amongst themselves it was _much_ better than letting Stan stay cooped up all night. Well, Stan would think, I go outside plenty more than you all think, so ha ha on you. 

Bill had driven himself, Stan, Beverly, Richie, and Eddie to the sock hop after dark, being one of the only ones with a license _and_ a car. Beverly sat next to Bill up front, which Stan horribly envied—and not just because he'd been stuck with Richie on his lap, wailing about God knows what. 

Bill always dressed well, but he dressed especially well whenever he went to a dance. A crisp white shirt and a sports coat, along with a blue tie that wasn’t as neatly done as Stan’s, but that added to the charm. He wore navy blue slacks to match his tie and polished (obviously not-often-worn) dress shoes. He was dashing and handsome as he always was, but still even moreso. It was Bill, but he somehow was radiating nothing but strength and charisma until it practically thrummed in your veins like a second pulse. 

All of the Losers noticed—well, they didn’t actively notice. They were already used to this feeling they'd slowly found the words to describe, even though they would never do so aloud. 

But Stan could feel that thrumming in his veins until his heart was pounding and he was restlessly fiddling with his tie. His eyes practically throbbed at the _sight_ of Bill. It was terrible and it was incredible at the same time. Bill was awfully handsome, that was undeniable, but his greatness surpassed looks. He was intelligent, he read and because he read he was able to write the most amazing stories Stan had ever seen. He was strong, and could get on almost any sports team he wanted. He rode Silver as a child with such gusto that you never noticed how big that bike was for him. How could one boy, who was too perfect to even be a boy, make Stan feel so utterly helpless?

And now, here Stan stood. In stocking feet with a cup of water in hand, listening to the local band play a lackluster version of “I’m Walkin’” by Fats Domino. Richie was off doing The Twist so cheesily that Eddie was, for once, hysterical, and Bill and Beverly were dancing together. Bill swung her around and made her laugh, and Stan felt that jealousy rush to his head so fast he was dizzy. 

“Holy shit,” Beverly gasped once the music died down, tightening her ponytail as she walked towards Stan. “Bill, you're ridiculous! Are you trying to kill me? You dance like Elvis!” 

“Do not,” Bill replied, and loosened his tie. Stan’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Well, I’m a _delicate girl_ , Mr. Denbrough. You could _break_ me!”

Bill smirked. “N-Nuh-No way, Bevvie. Eddie, muh-maybe, but not y-you.”

 _What about me?_ Stan thought. _Am I too delicate? They say I'm a pansy, but hell, they used to call Bill a pansy, too._

“I need some water, Big Bill. Stan, where's the snack table?” Stan was startled to be addressed so suddenly, blinking. 

“Wha—? Oh, it's over there.” He pointed towards a fold-out table near the entrance, and Beverly thanked him. Bill offered to get some for her, but she insisted it was alright. All three of them knew Beverly was fine on her own. 

Bill went to Stan, his sports coat now discarded on a nearby chair and his tie loosened. He was a little sweaty, but not grossly so. Bill was usually clean, which Stan greatly appreciated. 

“Stan, why d-don't you da-a-nce a little?”

“Because the band is shit,” Stan said absently, and Bill cracked up. Stan didn't know why.

“Suh-ure, but a good song’s st-t-till g-good, right?”

Stan had to nod at this wisdom, but nonetheless, dancing wasn't his forté. He didn't think he was good at it, and even if he was, it wouldn't save him from Richie’s incessant teasing (Jesus, could anything?).

Now Bill stood over Stan, and Stan could feel his heartbeat quicken. He smiled almost knowingly and slipped a hand around Stan’s waist. 

The band’s instruments slowly groaned back to life, and the singer (a senior named Jeremy West whose music career would end as soon as high school did) swung the microphone towards him.

“ _Ladies and Gentlemen! This one goes out to all of you_

Bill pulled Stan away from the wall, and Stan dropped his now-empty water cup on the floor from pure shock. 

_with a real special someone! So go on,_

Bill was tugging Stan into the myriad of teenagers, their poodle skirts and suits passed by in a blur. The plastic cup rolled hollowly across the floor, but Stan was too invested in insisting he didn’t dance to notice.

_take em by the hand and ask to dance! Don't be shy, because this_

Bill finally stopped. Stan didn't, and collided against Bill’s chest with a yelp, but Bill just laughed and help Stan steady himself.

 _might be your only chance_!”

Stan was breathing heavily, and he hadn’t even started to dance. Bill still had his arm tight around Stan’s tiny waist, and quickly laced his fingers with Stan’s using his free arm. 

“B-B-Bill,” Stan started. “Wha...what are we doing? You know I’m not a good dancer. What about Beverly?” 

The corner’s of Bill’s mouth turned up in a brilliant smile that made Stan’s hands clam up. “Buh-Bev isn't my d-deh-date, is she?”

Stan opened his mouth but was cut off as the band suddenly exploded into life. The singer yowled, and the music swelled into what they all immediately recognized as Buddy Holly’s _Rave On._

Bill swung into dancing as soon as the music started. He pulled Stan to and fro, twirled him, and was smiling broadly as he did so. Beverly was right, Bill certainly didn't waltz when it came to Rock n Roll. Stan couldn't help laughing and his cheeks flushed, partly from embarrassment and partly from the exercise and partly from… Well, _Bill._

“Rave on, it's a crazy feelin and-a, ah know it's got me ree-ling when you say, ‘I love you’ ooh, ooh, rave on…”

Before the song ended, Bill slowed down to a stop. He was laughing and beaming at Stan, and his hands were on his hips. 

In something Stan assumed was spur-of-the-moment, Bill tilted his head and leaned in to press his lips against Stan’s in a chaste, sweet kiss. Stan’s hands froze mid-air in shock, but he eventually relaxed into it, just before Bill pulled away.

Stan gazed up at Bill with those terribly dark eyes, muddled with shock, but mostly with absolute adoration and need. He didn't even bother checking if anyone saw. He was always safe with Big Bill. 

They looked at each other until the song finally did stop, and Bill was seemingly brought back to life. He ran his hands up and down Stan’s sides in thought, the action making Stan’s spine tingle. 

Bill bit his lip. “D-Duh-Do you...w-wanna get o-outa here?”

Stan also chewed his lip and looked toward the exit, shifting from one foot to another. “Yeah, that sounds swell, Bill,” he finally answered. “We should have just gone to a diner instead of coming in at all.”

“Suh-uh-ure. But it w-was fun d-d-dancing, wasn't it, S-Stanny?” 

Stan smiled, if not a bit sheepishly, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Not as fun as what you did after, Big Bill. Let's split.”


End file.
